


Two Strangers in the Bright Lights

by immafishcracker



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Lance is a good brother, Sickfic, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Tiny bit of Angst, langst i guess, mostly happy, shangst???, shiro wants to get to know his team better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 15:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immafishcracker/pseuds/immafishcracker
Summary: It really hits Shiro just how little he knows his team, he can barely count the things he knows about Lance and Hunk on one hand. He realizes that the team might not be completely fair in the way they act towards two of their quieter members.Aka, half the team gets sick, Lance and Hunk take care of them, and we finally get some of the team bonding we deserved.





	Two Strangers in the Bright Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Wish I knew you" by the Revivalists  
> Set in Season 1

They’re working on hand to hand combat in the training room when it really hits Shiro just how little he knows his team.

He knows Pidge. His memories are still scrambled, but he remembers lying in the dark on the hard Garrison bunks, listening to Matt ramble for hours about his genius little sister who was going to change the world. He remembers the Holts inviting him to dinner after finally being accepted into the Kerberos program, and being introduced to Katie. They’d spent the night in the booth of a familiar pizza place, talking about space and laughing at cheesy jokes.

He knows Keith. He could never forget those dark eyes, glaring like the entire world was pitted against them. He remembers long rides into the desert, trips to the zoo, nights spent camping under the stars, and all the good things. He remembers the bad things too. Split lips and black eyes, bloody knuckles and tears hidden in the dorm bathrooms, all the things that make Keith his little brother. 

Shiro knows so much about Keith and Pidge and cares about them as if they were family, but he can count the only things he knows about Lance on one hand.

  1. Lance is best friends with Hunk
  2. He seems to have an almost personal vendetta against Keith’s hair
  3. Lance is a _terrible_ flirt
  4. His horrible piloting is only made worse by his self-proclaimed rivalry with Keith
  5. During the mind meld exercise, Lance projected a picture of a large group of people Shiro can only assume are his family



That’s it. That’s all Shiro can say he knows about the kid. Nothing personal. Nothing he couldn’t find out from simply watching and listening to Lance for twenty minutes. He doesn’t even know his last name, or where he’s from.

Shiro counts the things he knows about Hunk on his other hand.

  1. Hunk is an engineer and a good one
  2. He throws up whenever he gets motion sick or anxious
  3. He can always be counted on to laugh at or at least say ‘good one’ when Lance makes a joke (even the awful ones)
  4. He’s a better chef than anyone Shiro has ever met
  5. …



Shiro can’t think of anything else notable enough to count. It feels like a failure. He doesn’t even know the basics. He’s supposed to be their leader, but he’s never even thought to ask them their favorite foods or colors. 

He glances over to where Hunk and Lance are sparing on the other side of the room. Their movements are awkward and clumsy, neither of them used to short-ranged combat, but they’re both grinning like they’re having the time of their lives.

“You fight like my sister!” Lance shouts.

“I’ve fought your sister, that’s a compliment!” Hunk yells back without missing a beat, and they both double over laughing as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

It’s an inside joke, Shiro acknowledges. One that he doesn’t understand any deeper than its face value. It only proves to remind Shiro of the great divide in their team. 

Allura isn’t having any of it. “Lance! Hunk! You need to focus, this isn’t a game!”

Shiro is surprised to see frustration flash across Lance’s face, though it’s gone so fast he’s sure he wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t been watching so closely. Not even a second passes before Lance’s carefree grin is pasted back on, but not as lively as before.

“Sorry, Princess!” He shouts before playfully jabbing Hunk in the stomach. 

Hunk retaliates with a half-hearted swing that Lance dodges easily, and the two quickly return to their sloppy sparing.

Allura scowls, unimpressed, “They need to take this more seriously.”

Keith slides up next to her and joins the conversation that Shiro later realizes should have been discussed in private, “What did you expect? They’re not going to get anything done if you put them together.” It’s clear he doesn’t approve of Hunk and Lance goofing off any more than Allura does.

Pidge walks over and stands rigidly next to Keith, staring blankly at her team and staying uncharacteristically silent.

It occurs to Shiro that they’re being hypocritical. Lance and Hunk are the only ones still training, the rest of the team just standing around and criticizing them for trying their best in a field they clearly have no experience in.

Pidge sways on her feet.

Shiro wonders how many times they’ve done this before, not just with training, but with piloting and combat and every little thing Lance and Hunk have ever done. His stomach turns as he thinks of how many times he’s initiated this conversation himself.

“Guys…” Pidge murmurs, voice slurred.

Shiro looks down at the green paladin, who is much greener than she should be, and any thoughts about Lance and Hunk fly out the window. 

“Pidge, are you alright?”

“I think I’m gonna--” she doesn’t finish her sentence before she’s on her hands and knees, spewing breakfast onto the floor.

“Oh, my!” Allura gasps.

Keith takes an instinctive step back at the same time Shiro takes an instinctive step forward, but it’s Coran who makes it to her first. He kneels next to Pidge and places a gentle hand on her forehead.

“Is this temperature normal for humans?” He asks, frowning.

Shiro gently strokes his human hand through Pidge’s bangs. She’s definitely warm, but he doesn’t know just how warm constitutes a fever anymore. It’s been so long since he’s taken care of someone sick, too many days where he was only living for the next moment. He can’t think of anything that would help now.

Lance comes out of nowhere, sliding across the smooth floor baseball style until he’s sitting right next to Pidge. He presses the back of his hand to her cheek and says, “Definitely not normal.”

Pidge moans and swats their arms away, still staring blankly at the puddle of sick in front of her.

“We should take her to the med bay,” Hunk suggests, a hand clasped over his face, determinedly  _ not  _ looking at the vomit. Shiro is vividly reminded of one of the few facts he does know about Hunk and realizes that they need to get the mess cleaned up before it gets a lot bigger.

He places one arm behind Pidge’s shoulders and the other under her knees, lifting her as gently as he can. This, at least, is something he can handle. Carrying Pidge makes him feel just a little less useless.

“Number Three, would you run ahead and prepare a body scan for Number Five?”

Lance doesn’t even respond to Coran’s question. He just sprints out of the training room, leaving the automated door open behind him.

“Should someone go with him?” Shiro asks. The technology in the med bay is foreign, and he wouldn’t know where to start with any of it. “Does he need any help?”

“Lance knows where the equipment is,” Coran says, to Shiro’s surprise, “he helps me take inventory of the castle ship between battles. Besides, we’ll be there in a few ticks anyways.”

Another thing to add to the long list of things Shiro didn’t know about the blue paladin. He tries to imagine Lance following Coran around the castle with a clipboard, writing down notes and numbers. It’s an odd image, but Lance and Coran have always gotten along well, so it’s not completely unfathomable.

Sure enough, by the time they get to the med bay, Lance has already laid out a cot and is holding some strange Altean instrument.

“Perfect, Shiro lay her down here. I’ll need Number Two to help me read her levels. I’m not sure what’s healthy for you humans.”

Shiro gingerly lays her down, resting her head on the pillow. She looks entirely too small on the large hospital cot, her cheeks flushed and sweaty. He takes a step back and lets Hunk and Coran scan her with the buzzing machines.

Lance stands on the other side of the cot, running a hand through Pidge’s bangs with a look in his eyes that reminds Shiro more of Matt than it should. Something in his stomach flips uncomfortably. Lance sees Pidge as a little sister. Shiro knew they were friends at the garrison, but the fiercely protective look in Lance’s eyes is a little alarming.

“She has the flu,” Hunk finally says, looking up at the rest of the team.

Shiro raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the flu.” Hunk stands from the edge of the bed, “She’s been pulling too many all-nighters. It was only a matter of time before she got sick.”

Pidge seems barely coherent now, her pale skin blending into the starch white of the hospital bed sheets. It’s disturbing to see her so still. Her eyes are clouded by fever and confusion.

“What is this ‘flew’?” Coran asks, pressing buttons on the scanner.

Hunk starts explaining the intricacies of human illnesses and Shiro starts to zone out. He should have known Pidge was getting sick. She’d been slower in training, but he’d been paying more attention to the others than her and hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed her sleeping schedule either. Everyone knew Pidge spent more time with her gadgets than in sleep, but he hadn’t realized just how sleep-deprived she really was.

“Cut it out.” Keith hisses, breaking through Shiro’s self-beratement.

“What?” Shiro looks around. Allura has stepped forward to see Pidge better, and Hunk is gesturing widely to a nodding Coran. No one is paying attention to him or Keith.

“This isn’t your fault and you know it.” Shiro opens his mouth to deny it, but Keith cuts him off, “I know that look. You’re blaming yourself for all of this.”

It turns out, Keith knows Shiro just as well as Shiro knows Keith.

“You can’t protect Pidge from germs, so give up already.”

As much as he hates to admit it, Shiro knows Keith is right. He sighs in resignation, and Keith gives a triumphant smirk.

“She’ll need plenty of liquids and rest.” Hunk announces loudly, “Also, the flu can get pretty contagious, so we’ll have to be careful that no one else gets sick.”

Looking around the room, Shiro thinks that keeping Pidge quarantined will be easier said than done.

* * *

It’s not even four hours later that Keith collapses in the training room from fever. They haul him into the med bay and give him a bed next to Pidge. The two are treated like kings by Lance and Hunk, who pile them with blankets and damp cloths to keep them comfortable. Shiro sits next to Keith, who is still wavering on the edge of lucidness and keeps him company.

The next morning, Shiro is hit by a wave of nausea in the shower, and barely makes it out without slipping on the slick tile floor. Hunk hears him retching from the next room over and quickly ushers him to join Keith and Pidge. 

Shiro protests the entire way, but Hunk just laughs, “You’re too self-righteous, Shiro. At least you’re not Lance. He’ll hide it as long as he can, but then he’ll milk it out until everyone’s annoyed out of their minds.”

Hunk shoves him into another bed (Shiro doesn’t know where they keep coming from), and he lands face first into the pillow.

“How are you and Lance still not sick?” 

“We actually take care of ourselves and get enough sleep, you insomniacs.” Hunk teases, rolling his eyes. 

Sleep sounds irresistibly good right now, and Shiro can feel himself drifting off as Hunk types something into the ever-present med scanner. His last half-coherent thought is that Hunk and Lance deserve a lot more than what they’re given credit for.

* * *

Shiro wakes to a low buzzing sound. 

He opens his eyes, then instantly regrets doing so. The blinding white tiles of the castle shoot into his skull, making it feel like his entire head is on fire. He closes his eyes again and groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids. The cool metal of his prosthetic soothes the hot pounding beneath it, but only for a moment. He blinks again, trying to adjust to the brightness.

The room is full of sleeping paladins. The beds are littered in used tissues and empty water pouches. Pidge’s mouth is open, and she’s drooling on her pillow. Keith is clutching his blankets like a lifeline and wearing Pidge’s headphones, which seem to be the source of the buzzing. Lance is draped across a chair between their beds, his lanky legs are spilling over the armrests. It doesn’t look very comfortable, but the kid is sleeping there anyway.

Shiro looks around for the rest of the team, but Coran, Allura, and Hunk all seem to be absent. He doesn’t like the lazy, helpless feeling of laying down, so he tries to sit up. Unfortunately, his left arm reacts to his brain’s instructions slower than his right, and it throws him off balance. After a heart-pounding half-second of terror and undignified flailing, Shiro topples off the bed and lands in a pile on the floor with a very loud crash.

“Ouch…” He mumbles incoherently, trying his best not to curse in front of the three sleeping teenagers in the room.

“ _ Dios mío, Shiro!  _ Are you alright?”

Make that  _ two  _ sleeping teenagers.

Footsteps dance around Keith’s bed and the next thing Shiro knows, Lance is crouched next to him, trying to help him sit up.

“Easy… easy, don’t upset your stomach,” Lance props him up on the edge of the bed, “just sit still for a minute.”

Shiro tries to wave him away. His headache has doubled in pain and he wants nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry, but he can’t let himself in front of Lance. Not when he’s already a failure of a leader.

“Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. It’s alright.” Lance takes in exaggerated breaths, his cheeks ballooning out like a squirrel’s, and Shiro chokes on a bitter laugh. It’s ridiculous, but the kid’s comical expressions are almost helping.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, really.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just try and get you back on the bed.” Lance slips under Shiro’s shoulder, and wraps an arm around his waist, “You’re gonna have to help me out here. I can’t lift you by myself.”

Shiro nods but keeps his mouth shut. His stomach is doing flips, and he really thinks he might throw up. It’s all he can do to work his legs underneath his body.

“Okay, on three. One, two, three!”

Lance lifts with a lot more strength than Shiro had been expecting, and he’s knocked off balance by his own effort to stand up. The room starts spinning. It takes him a good minute or two to realize that he’s collapsed back on the bed, still lightheaded. 

“Sorry, sorry, maybe I should have given you more time. One sec, I think we’ve got some more water around here somewhere. Hunk and Coran say you gotta stay hydrated… maybe Pidge drank them all.”

Shiro vaguely realizes that Lance is rambling. He’s probably nervous.

“I got Keith to drink some, but he was totally freaking out when he woke up. I gave him the headphones cuz I can never relax when it gets too quiet. I think they helped, I mean he’s asleep now, but he knocked over the box of water and now the pouches are kinda everywhere. Let me see if I can find one.”

Shiro closes his eyes, and his headache calms ever so slightly. The lights make his eyes burn, and he feels a lot cooler in the dark. Lance is still scrambling around the beds, looking for the water pouches, and Shiro suddenly remembers his train of thought from before this all started.

“Lance?”

The shuffling noises stop, and Lance’s voice is soft when he replies, “Yeah?”

“How many siblings do you have?”

Lance lets out a tiny puff of air. Shiro can’t tell if he’s relieved, annoyed, or just exhausted.

“What kinda question is that?”

“You talk about your family, but I never asked…” Shiro can tell he’s slurring. He’s so,  _ so  _ tired, but this is important, and he’s not falling asleep until he gets an answer. None of these children asked to fight this war. It’s the very least he can do to try and get to know them and understand their motivation.

There’s a long silence, and Shiro wonders if Lance is just going to ignore him, but then something cool and wet is placed against his lips. He sluggishly identifies it as a straw to one of the water pouches and starts sucking on it. The cool water feels heavenly against his sore throat.

“Four,” Shiro blinks his eyes open to see Lance sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the water to Shiro’s mouth. He’s wearing a soft, sad smile. “I have four siblings. Two sisters and two brothers, all older. And a sister-in-law. So five I guess.”

Lance is the  _ baby  _ of his family. It’s not what Shiro was expecting, but somehow it makes sense.

“When all this is over,” he’s barely awake, and doesn’t really know what he’s saying, but it feels important, “I’m gonna have lunch with you an’ Hunk. Get ta’ know you better.”

Lance grins wider, showing off his teeth, “We’d like that.” He sets the water on the table next to the bed, then straightens the covers over Shiro, “Now get better already so we can kick Galra butt.”

With a laugh, Shiro complies. He slowly dozes off and thinks that maybe this, this will make things better. He has so many new things to add to his lists, and soon he’ll be counting the things he doesn’t know about Lance and Hunk, instead of the things he does.

Someday they’re going to be a real team. No doubt about it.

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha I have so many essays I'm supposed to be writing  
> also so many other stories I'm supposed to be working on  
> but I found this in one of my old documents and couldn't resist finishing it  
> kudos and comments would be super nice :)


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